


Asfalis

by candidlyisha



Category: Kingsman, Taron Egerton - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gary "Eggsy" Unwin - Freeform, Love, Love/Hate, Robin Hood - Freeform, eggsy unwin - Freeform, taron egerton - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-27 12:24:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16218983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candidlyisha/pseuds/candidlyisha
Summary: ΑσφαλήςSafe/sāf/Adjectiveprotected from or not exposed to danger or risk; not likely to be harmed or lost.• • •Isla Constantine is a critically-acclaimed movie star known from her best movie, Gestures-all whilst finding inspiration (and crushing on) Taron Egerton. But when she gets the opportunity to work with him, like she's been dreaming of, things didn't turn out like she expected it to be.





	1. prologue

_"What is this?"_

_She looked at her surroundings, observing every single bit. She feels like a plane, taking off from land to the air. She's floating, but she didn't have any wings. She's just rising above, looking through the skyscrapers as they grew smaller the farther that she went, and noticed how the glimmering lights from the traffic and the buildings paralleled to the universe seen above her, and for a minute, she adored her view._

_She looked below her once more, and began to be startled by how high she was, but she learned to manage after a few comforting words to herself. Still, the probability of falling, as she felt her feet step onto nothingness, is up high. Anytime she could just drop. So she decided to test her strength by landing atop the highest building she could see, and she was able to land safely. She sighed in relief._

      _She wanted to catch a glimpse of the cars down, so she walked off the building and back into the air, but she immediately dropped, as if she didn't have the ability to fly earlier. Though, someone caught her, holding her arm and pulling her upwards, back to the chopper pad. She craned her head to see who it was, but it doesn't show a face. It looks like a silhouette, even. All she knew was, she could tell that it was a man from the vein protruding from his skin and pressing on her arm from his, and that he had perfectly good reflexes to catch her immediately before gravity could do its works and land harshly on the busy streets of London. London, as she recognised it._

_When she was set back down to safety, the silhouette still remained on her side. Her brain told her about being frightened, like she was supposed to be scared, but she wasn't. Not anymore. Not even at the apparition that saved her._

_"Thank you," she said to the silhouette, nodding._

_She watched the lights of the passing vehicles from down the building with the shadow. She could feel his arm brush hers, but whenever she turns to him, she can see through him._


	2. PART I:

**Πρώρο Μέρος**  
(Part I)

**SO CLOSE, YET, SO FAR**

_Her emotions are mostly kept at bay_   
_The songs she writes in secret_   
_She wishes that one day she will say_   
_The things she had been keeping_

_His emotions concealed and he tries to shut down_   
_All the things he had been feeling_   
_But if it wasn't for that chance encounter_   
_He might have never gotten the true meaning_

_Guilt hits her, and regret hits him_   
_All the things that could have happened_   
_So she finally expressed her heart_   
_And the willingness that she's been trapping_

•••

**Remember the words you told me, "love me 'til the day I die?"**  
 **Surrender my everything 'cause you made me believe you're mine**  
 **Yeah, you used to call me baby, now you calling me by name**  
 **Takes one to know one, yeah**  
 **You beat me at my own damn game**  

—  _5 Seconds of Summer_  • Youngblood

• • •

**THE DRUNK MEETING**

**ISLA**

 

     With her signature side-swept hairdo and long, black gown that has a slit on her left leg up to her thigh, she is like a masterpiece framed and caged in a glass the moment she sets foot in the red carpet. Blinding lights flashes at her with incoherent babbling from the paparazzi trying to beckon her to look straight at their cameras. Isla tries to look at every camera present, but there's just too many. After all, the flashes from their individual DSLRs makes it hard to determine where the cameras really are. It's about an hour and a half before showtime, and she needs to address interviewers and fans that are waiting for her behind the barricade, screaming her name.

     She is beckoned by an interviewer from a famous gossip site, and she comes forward to entertain her. After she's asked a few typical questions (for example, how she reacted and felt the first time she found out that she was nominated. Winning, or just simply being nominated in this award show is already such an achievement, let alone be nominated at about four categories, which, she is) the auburn-haired girl shifts the topic into something that's quite stressful to answer.

     "I heard Taron Egerton is going to be here. Do you have plans on meeting him?" She asks.

     Right. That very name that just makes her heart skip a beat. Taron Egerton is her celebrity crush—though she tells everyone that it's beyond that—and had been an avid fan of him since she began her career, and this may be the day where she finally gets noticed. Her faint obsession with the young lad has been revealed on few of her interviews, but enough to get the word across. Taron Egerton is Isla Constantine's celebrity crush.

     Isla stammers, and her breathing begins to grow heavy. But she is an actress—of course she should be pretty good at hiding her anxiety as it occurs. All because she wasn't informed that he is going to be in the same place, breathing the same atmosphere as she is. All she knew was he's nominated for an award or two, but she wasn't that quite updated on news about him because of her busy schedule. There were absolutely no time in her schedule for free days—or even hours—to take a short scroll on her Twitter feed.

     But all she can do now is pretend that she knew he was coming. This is where her acting skills becomes extra convenient. "Yeah, although I'm a bit shy. I have no clue how he'll react if we meet," which is true. It's either he recognises her and think that _'oh, this is that famous actress who has been obsessing over me'_  or he doesn't at all. Isla can't tell what is the far more embarrassing scenario.

     She's nervous now, especially on the fact that has crawled on her spine the moment she found out about Taron's unexpected presence.

     Delilah Heely. International supermodel.

     Delilah and Taron had been going out for quite a while now—almost a year and a half—and although Taron has been a very secretive person since the start, the word still managed to get around because of paparazzi works and Delilah with her social media posts that slightly angers Isla. Because, god, let's face it—jealousy is an understatement to express how she usually feels whenever Delilah uploads a lovey-dovey photo of her and Taron. _How gross,_  she would often mutter to herself. As if she stands a chance with the Welsh actor. She may, in her critically-acclaimed life, have the privilege to meet her favourite actor of all time, but to date him is already such a blurry possibility.

     "If he was present here at this very carpet near us, and I'd bring him in, would that be okay?"

     Isla feels her heart drop to her stomach. Here she establishes that she is beyond unready to meet her favourite actor as much as she would love to. She takes a quick glance behind her to check if the lad really is around, taking the interviewer's words as kind of a hint, but he's nowhere to be seen. She really looks closely at everyone.

     She faces back to the camera and the interviewer and confesses: "no. I'm really nervous." It feels good to say that. It has been something that she's been practicing recently: saying no.

     After a few more typical questions, the interviewer bids Isla her goodbyes to move on to another celebrity present in the red carpet. So Isla moves on to her fans and approach the barricade. The high-pitched screaming grows even louder as she walks towards the metal bars, and the girls at the front row are nearly shoving the upper part of their body inside the red carpet, phones in their hands and waving for Isla.

     "Isla, over here!" One fan screams, and it reminds her of the paparazzi that tried to make her look at his camera from a while ago. Except now the fan is actually pronouncing her name right, and it doesn't sound harsh. And the paparazzi was calling her Iz-la the whole time. "Isla! Can we take a picture?" The fan says, nearly shoving her phone on Isla's face. A bit annoyed, but she takes the black iPhone from her hand and smile for the picture. She then gives back her phone and do the same for the others, even conversing with them for a bit with simple 'how do you do's, a very typical Isla greeting to her fans, it has nearly became her signature and a source of teasing done by her devoted fans.

     Now, Isla's fuse is short and she can get a bit annoyed because of the fans' aggressiveness, but she's still grateful for her fans and, according to most, one of the few that actually treats them right.  _She knows how it is to be a fangirl, so she treats her fans the way they deserved to be treated,_  one critic said. At times she would really have to object to some fans' requests but she knows how to explain herself and fortunately, the fans are understanding, but some just can't bring themselves to comprehend and, in modern slang, tend to  _unstan,_ together with a full Twitter rant on how they realised that Isla Constantine is not a good person like they thought.

     Well, it happens.

     After she takes pictures, chat a little and even do video greetings for fans, she leaves the barricade and head inside the theater where the award show is going to be held. She isn't at ease as she makes her way to the theater, anxiously keeping an eye on every corner of the lobby in case the Kingsman actor shows up as unexpected as him actually coming in the show.

     The coast is clear for Isla. She searches for the seat with the signboard of her photo and name on it. She places her clutch down on the seat but she continues to walk in search for Taron's, and she discovers that he's about a row and four seats away from him; she's practically invisible.  _Thank god,_  she thinks as she heaves a sigh and head straight back to her assigned seat.

     The show begins, and one out of four categories that Isla is nominated for is announced, and it's one out of four awards for her as she climbs up the stage when her name is read on the envelope and announced that she has won.

     Shakily, she delivers her acceptance speech. Not because her favourite actor is around, but because she's still not used to speaking in front of people as herself. There's still stage fright lingering in her stomach despite all her theater experience, because there's a huge difference between acting and dialogues that are memorized from a script and impromptu speaking in front of about twenty-thousand strangers when you least expect it.

     "...thank you so much. And to my fans, this is for you!" She says, concluding her speech and raising the trophy up as she walks down the stage and everyone applauds her.

     She heads back to her seat from backstage and see Taron looking at her. He smiles as if he is congratulating her. Her heart beats out of her chest at the sight of him and his grin, but can't bring herself to believe that that actually happened. _Maybe I wasn't the one he was smiling at,_  a cynical part of her mind whispers, but deep within she knows that the smile is for her. She hopes that it was for her. She blushes, satisfied about the very first interaction she's ever had with him, even if it's just as simple as a simper and a nod.

     But her eyes shifts to the brunette girl with a knowing face beside him, perhaps, also clapping a bit for her, and her heart taps against her ribs rapidly.

     "Good girl, Isla," her manager, a middle-aged man named Christopher Carolos says, clapping cheerfully. Isla has no plus ones to invite because her parents are across the country, nor does she have a significant other, so she picked her manager to be her date instead since she feels like she owes him a lot for her success. Frankly, she wishes that she would have someone to flaunt in award shows and premiers the way other artists do. 

     "I feel like you are going to wipe out those awards," he continues.

     She laughs. "You are just saying that because you're my manager. Of course you would think that I'm amazing. You love your own, right?"

     The tall man leans over to say something, because the crowd is getting louder with their cheers because of another celebrity being announced as a winner. "It's true, Isle. Stop doubting your potentials," he tells her. And he's been telling her that over and over again like a broken record because as much as winning a Tony, and now this award, she still feels like she isn't good enough, and even she doesn't know why. Perhaps it has something to do with her experience in theater workshops, where she was repeatedly undermined by her peers until she believed it herself that she sucked. The confidence is still a work-in-progress up until now. It's strange how it takes years and years to build confidence up just to have one harsh criticism knock it down in a matter of seconds.

      _You don't belong here_ , they told her, and it echoes in her head almost everyday. Now, she has proven them wrong by winning awards and praises from critics, but for her, it still isn't enough. She's also unsure how she's going to build herself back up again but she keeps telling herself that she's making progress, but even she knows that that's a lie, because you can't fix something without knowing what the problem is first. It's like apologizing to someone without knowing what you did. There's little to no sincerity. Most of the time it's done just to get it over with.

• • •

     Christopher was correct with his prediction, and Isla brings home all the four awards that she has won, however the show hasn't ended yet. There are three more categories to announce. Similarly, Taron has already won two out of two. And now they await until the end of the show for the after party. They were told that it's going to be amazing.

     Isla excuses herself to go to the washroom. She, then, gets out of the theater, into the lobby and make her way into halls where the lavatory is located, where she hears a couple arguing and the man's voice and the glorious accent sounds ever so familiar for Isla.

     As she walks toward the halls, the fighting gets louder. And when she realises who it is, she presses her back on the wall to avoid being seen, then carries on to the sink located outside of the loo. She can still hear them, and she tries her very best for this supposed-to-be private conversation slur in her hearing, but she fails to do so—everything, every word is still crystal clear.

     "We are through, Taron," the girl, whom Isla registers as Delilah, says and she sounded as if she's choking back tears. "We're done."

     "Okay," Taron replies, calmly. As if he's been expecting for her to say it. "Okay. If that's what you want."

     Then Isla hears footsteps so she runs inside the women's room. She takes a peek outside, the door blocking most of her sight. And when she sees that there are no people outside, she runs back out to the washroom, looking at herself in the mirror in pure disbelief. Her jaw nearly dropped to the sink.

     She had just witnessed a break up. And not just any break up. It's Taron and Delilah's. It makes her wonder if this will be up in gossip sites first thing tomorrow, but nevertheless, she is apparently the first one outside the relationship to know.  _And it's none of my business,_  she thinks, and she is correct. For some reasons, she thought she was going to celebrate on the inside when this happens just like any insensitive fan would, but now she just feels so bad for Taron. He didn't deserve to be treated like that, she thinks. He deserves way, way better. As if her input would make any difference.  _Someone better like me,_  her delusional mind continues but she shakes her head, trying to convince herself not to think something so insensitive at a time like this. Plus, she doesn't even know whose fault is it in reality. She can't give any judgments.

     When she gets back, she turns to Taron's seat and see him appearing like he's breathing heavily. The seat next to him is now vacant. She badly wants to approach him and comfort him, but he doesn't know her, and he has no clue that she heard them fight. They don't actually know each other for Isla to suddenly become best of friends with Taron just because of his break up. And besides, if she does and Taron lets her in, everyone is going to think that she's insensitive—taking this opportunity to attract her celebrity crush to date her, now that he's in a vulnerable state, even letting herself be a rebound after a one and a half year of relationship.  _Oh god, I'd rather not,_  she thinks at the thought of that possibility. She might not be living to please anyone (her words, on one interview she did with Ellen) but she doesn't want to come out as a bad person either.

     She lets herself drop to her chair and Christopher leans to whisper. "What's going on? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

     She didn't realise that she mimicks Taron's expression mixed with her own emotions towards what she just eavesdropped on.

     "I think I might have just witnessed a break up," she says, a little shaken up. She hugs herself, gaping at the cold air and shivering.

     "Whose break up?"

     She heaves a sigh. "Taron and Delilah's."

     Christopher's mouth is now in an 'o' shape, and he laughs. "Does that make you a little inconsiderately happy?"

     Isla sighs loudly. "I'm not." She answers honestly. "Even I didn't expect that I would feel this way. I'm not going to be insensitive knowing that he's hurting. Although he does a pretty job to conceal that."

• • •

     The afterparty looks like a rave after a marathon that throws colored powder on you and it stains your clothing forever. Isla thinks she isn't dressed appropriately to head to the moshpit, though, but who isn't? Everyone is in formal clothing but that doesn't stop them. She's just making an alibi to stay because she just doesn't feel like pushing her claustrophobic self in the sea of people and jumping on her heels. Her feet is already killing her because there are no chairs in the venue. So she stays on the cocktail table, leaning her elbow on it with a drink in her hand, occasionally rubbing her lower legs and wincing in pain.

     Suddenly, a brunet guy with the same drink approaches her, and he looks extremely fucked. "Hey," he greets. "What is up?"

      Isla recognises that familiar accent anywhere, and turning to face the guy sends shock in every part of her body like she's been electrocuted. She's not ready for this, and she doesn't know when she ever will be. But apparently, the time needs to be now.

     "Taron," she gasps, but not enough for the boy to hear her. "Are you all right?" She still asks, even though she damn well knows that he isn't. Physically and emotionally.

     "Yeah. I drank about ten strong shots today. My girlfriend broke up with me, for fuck's sake," he replies, slurring in every word that he says. "I don't know anymore, but this drink is amazing," he continues, raising the cocktail glass as if Isla can't already see it.

     Isla realises that Taron is extremely drunk, therefore his congeniality is up high, so is his honesty. And he probably won't remember any of this interaction when he wakes up with a strong hangover tomorrow. Isla is surprisingly fine with that because she isn't at ease either. She just wonders how many people he's told about his fight with his girlfriend accidentally, and her concerns are raised. At least she can keep her mouth shut, but what about the others?

     Isla takes the cocktail from Taron's hand and downs it in one go. He looks at her as if he can't believe what she just did. "What the fuck?"

     "You already had too much to drink," she says. Taron tries to grab her glass but she draws it away. "Ah. No."

     She is unsure either why she appears a little too confident talking to him. Probably because he'll have no memory of her bossing him around like this at their first official meeting. She just wants the best for him but he would never understand that now that he's heartbroken—that is, if he's conscious about what's going on, which he isn't, she hopes. Otherwise, this will be such an odd memory for Taron.

     "My girlfriend broke up with me," he repeats. "Let me have this!"

     "No, Taron," she says, sounding like a best friend—scratch that, sounding like a mother. "I will not let you have this. Plus, it's my drink."

     Surprisingly, he nods. "Yeah, you're right." Then he pats her arm. "You...you're right. I'm going home. I'll see you whenever, Constantine." It brings Isla to shock that he somehow remembers her. But she doesn't blame him for calling her by her surname. There will always be hesitations before trying to say her name out loud. "Is it Iz-la or Isla, like Island without n and d?" asked one of the interviewers when she was still at her starting point. As if they've never even heard of Isla Fisher.

     Isla gets goosebumps tickling her spine as she feels Taron's hand squeeze hers as his goodbye. Then, he leaves the place. And Isla in complete shock.

• • •

     Isla scrolls on her Twitter feed that rages with fan accounts dedicated for her. She has this habit of following back and replying to their messages as she believes that one of the greatest gifts an artist could ever give to their adoring fans is recognition. Although there are conditions: They better not be rude to other fans nor any other artists. Otherwise she, with no hesitation, will unfollow.

     She sees someone retweet a TMZ article about Taron Egerton getting drunk with a video attached. And her she feels like someone has pinched her heart at the sight of the gossip article, to which her fan quoted with "What the hell happened?"

     With a heavy heart, she looks up if the word already spread like a wildfire, googling Taron Egerton and Delilah Heely. And true enough, it already did.


	3. δυο

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the after-party and the consequences of Taron's actions.

**But you only get half of the story**  
**The cash and the cars, and the glory**  
**No sleep and we party 'till morning**  
**'Cause nobody cares when you're boring**

—  _Louis Tomlinson_  • Just like You

• • •

******BAD DECISIONS AND REGRETS**

**TARON**

     His arm falls on the bed, and so does half of his body. As his head begins to slip away from his pillow, his eyes flutter open, and pain begins to linger on the veins of his head, starting from his nape, reaching his eyes. He sits up immediately and regrets his abrupt actions, as the pain begins to wrap itself around his head. He throws his head on both his palms, pressing the heel of his hands on his eyes, where it hurts the most. He presses it hard enough for him to begin seeing galaxies. Then he realises that it only pains him even more, so he removes his hands off his face and stare at the Victorian-styled chair that rests in front of the dresser where he saw his reflection last night, with Delilah tugging on his arm. But forget about Delilah for a second, as his sight makes it seem like he's witnessing how the world actually spins and moves within the universe.

     He starts breathing heavily. His stomach grumbles and he feels acid crawling up to his throat. He knows this feeling too damn well so he quickly runs to the bathroom to vomit. Unfortunately, he doesn't make it to the toilet bowl, and he just ends up vomiting all over the bathroom floor. He doesn't know how the cleaning lady will react at the sight of all this, but right now, the only thing that's important to him is to end his misery. The misery that he put himself through. Although he thinks that after all the success that he's been enjoying, such as getting so much exposure after about five of the movies he played the lead in has become a box-office hit, now it feels like life's starting to pay back. That now's the perfect time for bad luck to simultaneously attack.

     Here is the complete list of what went down in Taron's life these past few months that made him believe that witchcraft is real, and that he's already been cursed by whoever he may have done wrong within his life up to this point.

          1. He's been looking forward into playing a part in this popular movie franchise. Not because of the exposure, but because he's been admiring that franchise ever since it's begun, only to be filed in the rejects section by the casting directors. Now the way he looks at the movie franchise has drastically changed. Although, in many years of acting, he should know the general rule of giving everything he's got, but not expecting too much to avoid disappointments. He must have forgotten.

          2. After he got the rejection call, Delilah picks another fight with him regarding how he spends too much time on his phone when they're together. Taron wasn't to blame about it, though. He almost always have to address something technical with his management in mid-day, and even he knows how much it sucks. He tried to turn his phone off in order to make him unreachable only to get reprimanded by his manager when he turned it back on because she needed to talk to him about 'important matters'.

          3. When he tried to tell Delilah about it, she felt like she was getting blamed for him missing a lot of calls and text messages, so out come another big fight. They make up and fight again and again until Delilah just decided to leave it.

          4. Oh, but who can forget about what happened the previous night? Things got so much worse on their relationship as they were already arguing whilst watching celebrities go up and down to claim their awards. It's all because of Taron lacking time to spend time with her because of the taping schedules and auditions. There were a lot of witnesses during their fight, but Delilah didn't seem to care anymore. Taron invited her to come with him to a place where no one can hear them arguing and that's where things ended.

     The fifth is yet to be discussed, but it might have been the ultimate bad luck of all. Anyway, he finds it hard to believe that all of these are just coincidence. It's like all of these occurrences had been planned beforehand.

     "Taron?" He hears a female voice from outside the lavatory.

    "In here," Taron responds with absolutely no energy. "Don't...don't come here. I'll be right out."

     He presses the flush down then gets out of the bathroom, leaning on the walls as he walks back to his bed and entertain the woman who has called him. He turns to the door, and see a woman, in about her early thirties, with cat-eye glasses pushed up her red hair and a Macbook Air resting on her forearm. Taron rubs his watery eyes with the hem of his shirt and begin to recognise her as Ella or Elle Silver, his publicist. And she looks very displeased.

     "You really fucked up last night."

      _Oh no_. Elle is not the type to use profanity. In fact, she is completely against it. This is one of the rare cases where she's actually pissed enough to swear, and from here Taron knows that he really messed up this time. His heart begins to beat out of his chest and his throat getting dryer every second.

     But as much as he is frightened, he still tries to reply nonchalantly. "What did I do last night?" He asks, his palm on his head. He just can't remember anything that happened in the after-party he attended to. But he hopes inside that it's something that he can shrug off and ignore as if nothing ever happened. But by the looks of it, that might not be the case, taking from Elle's reaction and swearing.

     Elle places her laptop down on the bed, with the screen facing Taron and to his horror, he sees an article from a famous celebrity news website that says **Kingsman star Taron Egerton breaks down in an award show after-party after break-up with actress and supermodel Delilah Healy.**

     Oh, that name.  _Delilah Healy_. It used to be music to his ears and now it's unnecessary background noise that he can't get rid of. He wishes that he can just choose what he can forget and what he cannot from last night. He wants to forget about all the awful things that Delilah had said to him, and remember that he might have got a little too fucked up last night, which would be such an odd memory, but at least he was conscious and knew what he was doing.

     The cursor is already pointed at the video underneath the article, and Elle taps the track pad to have the video playing. Taron badly wants to look away, but the back of his head tells him that he is going to need to see this to believe.

     The video shows him with two shots in his hand, raising both of them before drinking from one of the shot glasses. Some blond-haired lad swiped the other shot glass away from his hand, and when he tried to grab it from the guy, he raises it up and shakes his head on Taron. "No," he mouths, but Taron pushed the guy's shoulders like he's starting a fight. "My girlfriend broke up with me an hour ago. Let me have this!" He replied, slurring. Then he danced embarrassingly to the EDM playing in the background for four seconds before the video ends and shows the replay button Taron doesn't intend to click.

     Pissed, he slams the laptop shut and lean on the wooden headrest of the bed, crossing his arms. He forgets that he's still in the midst of a hangover, so his immediate actions shoots pain in his head once again and he winces whilst placing his middle fingers on his temples, groaning.

     "Prairie Oyster?" Elle offers as she expressionlessly watches Taron's hangover agony. Taron is reminded of the movie Heathers because of this.

     "Do they even have that in here?" Taron sounds a bit harsh, as if he finds the offer ridiculous, but it's his headache that gives him this tone of voice. Although, he looks like he's taking the pain out on Elle, she seems to understand him anyway since she had already witness this happen too many times. Taron getting drunk in parties. However, this time, someone caught a shot of him acting the way that would give just any viewers of the video second hand-embarrassment and cringe attacks.

     Elle walks towards the bed and sits beside Taron and the nightstand where the telephone rested. She, then, lifts the phone and dial zero to request for the hangover cure. "Yes, can you guys give us a glass of your best hangover cure? Okay. Perhaps, prairie oyster would do. Thank you very much!" She says before placing the phone down and hanging up. She faces Taron and nods. "Yeah, they might make you  _that_  hangover cure. Next time, don't order strong shots when you know that there are cameras everywhere."

     Sure, Taron had been chased by paparazzi before, but rarely. If you look in the internet, there's barely any photos of him captured by the paparazzi unless he's with Delilah or filming a movie, or other stuff that might be unavoidable for him to get photographed on. But he doesn't really get followed around on his own on a random day. So this situation really brings him to shock. That someone actually bothered whipping out their phone to videotape him and leak it on the internet for the entire world to see him fuck up. He wishes that he's back in the times where only very few people could recognise him, approach him and just tell him 'Manners maketh man' out of the blue before asking if he could take a photo with them. Unfortunately, no one could turn back the time, but he still wishes he can so that this nightmare would stop.

     And that's the fifth on the list of bad things that happened to him.  _No more, please,_  Taron thinks, pleading to all the gods above present and witnessing this. He's getting tired of all the problems that's been hitting him here and there. He thought he had to deal with the break up only, but this added up to the things he's going to need to address.

     "Is there any way we can sue this website for leaking a video without my consent? And suing the person who took it, too?"

     "I think so," replies Elle. "But that's going to take a long, long process."

     Elle is cut off by the doorbell buzzing. She excitedly gets up and approach the door, perhaps thinking about how Taron will react to the taste of the classic hangover cure. She opens it and see a guy that is dressed like a typical doorman holding a glass, with a top hat to match his sky-blue marching band-like uniform. "Here's the prairie oyster that you requested," he says, and Elle nods.

     Elle digs on the pocket of her flowing casual dress and hand him the money before taking the glass and gently closing the door shut. Taron watches everything, confused but he still tries to follow through anyway. Everything just went so fast. First, he wakes up with a painful headache. Second, he's on the bathroom floor puking his guts out. Three, Elle barges in his hotel room to tell him that he messed up. Four, he watches the video and reads the article about him and felt mortified and angry. Five, Elle requests for prairie oyster from the hotel services. Six, the prairie oyster arrives and seven, closing his eyes and imagining that it is another liquor shot he has to conquer, he drinks it halfheartedly and looking disgusted as he swallows the hangover cure. He even gags a little bit.

     He places the glass on the nightstand and points at it. "That...is fucking horrible. I'm never getting drunk ever again." And Elle just laughs at him upon hearing his ridiculous promise. "What?"

     "Oh, Taron, how many times have you told me that and end up just doing the same mistake over and over again like you never learned?"

     He shrugs. "I'm heartbroken, aren't I? Of course, I'm not going to be in the right mind."

     "Really? So how do you explain the other times when you still had a girlfriend and ended up getting drunk at parties, hmm?"

      _'When you still had a girlfriend'._  That just stung Taron so hard. It's difficult for him to accept that Delilah and him are though. And it doesn't help that in less than twenty-four hours later, the whole world knows about it because of him.  _Him_ who has got a reputation of being too closed and silent about giving much information about his personal life. He thought people would just figure it out slowly with the lack of photos of him and Delilah, and her deleting her Instagram photos of him or about him one by one, even unfollowing each other on all social media platforms.

     "Stop mentioning my ex-girlfriend, Elle. I don't need that from you right now."

     Elle chuckles. "Sorry. But really, Taron, you need to get yourself together. This isn't something you can shrug off and let die—" then she turns to Taron and look him straight in the eye "—this is something you are going to need to address."

     Taron looks devastated and angry at the same time. He's never used to addressing situations because he's never even had a situation to address. He's not problematic like the others. In fact, that's what his fans love about him. That's why he's scared his reputation is going to finally have a scratch on it. A scratch that somebody else made because they thought that it's their job to videotape him getting fucked up, as if it isn't such a normal thing to do especially after a break-up. Clearly, speaking out about the video is something that is definitely against his will.  _I was heartbroken. It's such a normal thing to do,_  he thinks to himself, beginning to mentally construct his statement in case gossip reporters start to shove their microphones on his lips and ask him questions about it the moment he steps out of this hotel building perhaps, three hours from now when he checks out.

     "That's not the only thing that I'd need to address." Taron says as he glances down at his phone and clicking the lock. His lockscreen only shows his dull wallpaper of him and Delilah when they were on vacation in Bahamas (which, by the way, is something that he's going to need to change sooner) and no missed calls nor texts from his girlfriend— _ex_ girlfriend. He feels like he's the one who fucked up. That means he have to set his guard down and make the first move in trying to get back together with her.

     "Taron, I'm so sorry," Elle says, expressing sympathy as Taron just stares at his phone, awaiting for a ping that indicates that he's got a message. A message that came from Delilah, he hopes. "Does Byron know?"

     Byron Clarke is Taron's best friend since high school. Their friendship began on a science project they were paired up together on way back sophomore year. After hanging out in each other's houses trying to finish their work, it drew them closer together until they began hanging out even after the science project and eating lunch together, even hanging out at the arcade game place called Gamestop after class. Until now they still haven't missed a thing about each other and still talk every single day, even if Byron is stuck in Wales and Taron is in London. The last thing they talked about was Byron's fight with his father, and him looking for a place to stay in London. Taron offered, but the plan is still tentative.

     "That fucker should have known by now," he replies. Of course, he would find out with all these media attention. And Taron is afraid he's going to get a sermon from Byron, since Byron is the type of guy that doesn't hit the brakes and just straight up tell Taron his extremely frank opinion, not caring whether it's something that would hurt him so much, just as long as it's best for him. For example, him telling Taron that Delilah sounded like a bad idea on their honeymoon phase. Taron said he appreciated his input, but disregarded it. Byron was okay with it, "but don't say I didn't warn you," he reminded him as his final say towards their relationship. And he never said anything else during the year and a half-long period of relationship. He just let Taron release all his pent-up emotions whenever they get in a fight, maybe share a little bit of advice that Taron damn well knew were probably halfhearted.

     "Perhaps you should tell him what happened, still. Even if his words right after could kill you." Elle knows that Byron is someone awfully honest even though she's only met him thrice. Taron sometimes vent out to her whenever Byron would tell him something that he doesn't want to hear, after getting in a fight with him. Elle constantly reminds him that he's just trying to be his best friend, and that's what they usually do. "But let me remind you, Byron is very candid but he does know how to be sensitive. I'm sure he would know when to tell you off or just listen to your pain, much like what you do to him."

     "Yeah, I hope so. She's been bashing my ex-girlfriend way longer than I can remember."

• • •

     When Elle has left him alone with his phone and a half-drunken glass of prairie oyster on the nightstand, he rings Delilah, but he's sent straight to her voicemail. "Hey, it's Lilah. Please leave a message," it says. Taron is a bit glad to hear her voice, but it stings his heart knowing that he isn't the one she's talking to.

     But he's really tempted to say something. He's still hopeful even though he's already reminded that Delilah is the kind of person who, when she says she wants to break up with you, she's not turning back. It means she's had enough, and she's definitely had enough with Taron.

     He places his phone near his lips and begin to speak. "Hey, Lilah. If you receive this message, please call me," he says, but he knows he isn't going to get a call back. Still, it's worth a shot. At least he made a move and tried instead of just assuming that she'll never acknowledge him anymore, which he already is right about.

     His phone begins to ring in his hands. Excited, he looks at the caller ID but instantly gets devastated when he finds out that it is Byron that's calling him, and not someone that he's been wanting to return his call. Still, he's going to need emotional support from his best friend, so this is kind of a good thing.

     He slides his finger sideways to answer the call. "Hey, Byron," he greets, unenthusiastic. "I bet you've already known."

     "Yeah, I have. How are you doing?"

     "Not great, of course. Man, I wish you were here so we can sit for a beer or two and just talk about how you were right about her all along," Taron replies, half-sarcastically. "Tell me you told me so."

     But Byron just laughs. "I don't want to. You need all the support that you can get, and I'm not going to shit on you now. Maybe in the near future when you are kind of okay. Also, lucky for you, I got the part. So we'll be hanging out very soon."

     Finally, Taron lightens up and smiles for the first time today. "Wait, really?"

     Byron has been telling Taron that he has auditioned for a minor role that is set to be filmed in London, partly as a part of his excuse to get out of Wales. Byron is just starting his acting career and Taron has been giving him full-on support since he announced that he's already going on theater workshops. Taron had even invited him to study acting officially, most preferably in RADA and Byron told him that it's already in the pipeline, although not now. He's still saving up. He doubts that his father will support him because they think that it's sheer luck Taron became recognised. But Taron worked thrice as hard for it; that's the reality. The success is only the tip of the iceberg. The only thing that people see.

     "I'm going to London, Taron." Taron can feel Byron's smile with the way he says it.

     "You're more than welcome to. When's the filming going to be?"

     "About a week from now. I hope you got your whole place tidied up before I get there. I'm not going to sleep on the ruins," he jokes, still, even though he knows that Taron is already a changed man that doesn't leave the house without it being spotless, much like him. He's always wanted him to be like that. "The only thing you need to do right now is to hold on. Or, call me if you want to cry, man. I'm always here and I won't judge."

     Taron chuckles. "That sounds a lot like bullshit to me, Byron."

     After they catch up for almost an hour, the call is interrupted by another phone call that made Taron jump. It turns out, it's just his agent, so Taron excuses himself from Byron and tell him that his manager is calling before he hangs up.

     "Hello?" Taron answers his agent's call.

     "I've got you four roles to audition to and I think you're going to like it. It might even cheer you up."

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a supernatural-themed fanfiction, but bear with me please x


End file.
